Hi, my name is Nikita Slater and I'm the International Bestselling author of The Queens series, Fire & Vice series, The Sanctuary series, Driven Hearts series and several standalone novels. I've loved the written word my entire life and am an avid reader, as well as a writer. I live, eat and breathe books and I'm always working on something new!
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I live on the beautiful Canadian prairies with my son and crazy awesome dog. I have an unholy affinity for books (especially dark romance), wine, pets and anything chocolate. Despite some of the darker themes in my books (which are pure fun and fantasy), I am a staunch feminist and advocate of equal rights for all races, genders and non-gender specific persons. When I'm not writing, dreaming about writing or talking about writing, I love to help others discover a love of reading and writing through literacy and social work.

Only the strongest can survive in a hostile world ravaged by a disease that turns humans into primitives.

She is the Desert Wren, a rebel bent on providing safe passage to illegal refugees entering into her Sanctuary city. If she’s caught she’ll be executed, but the price is worth the privilege of doing what she knows is right. Except when she’s finally caught, the sentence isn’t death, it’s her freedom.

It’s the Warlord’s job to weed out the weak and sacrifice them for the good of the Sanctuary. Brutal and autocratic, he is the highest authority. The only threat to his dictatorship is a rebel faction rising up from the slums of his city. When he arrests a rebel leader, the Desert Wren, he sees his redemption. She will help him guide Sanctuary into the future. He just needs to convince his little captive that she’s better off with him than flying free.

What is the price of Sanctuary in a dying world and is it worth the sacrifice?


The Sanctuary Series

I give her time to come to the correct conclusion, to release her guilt and then reform her opinion. My Taran is as intelligent as they come, but sometimes her passion gets in the way of her logic. I trust that she'll find her own truth and that it'll be the optimistic, shining opposite of mine.


She finds me in the bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking over some reports. Her face is pale and drawn, and though she isn't crying there are tear marks down her cheeks. My chest aches at her misery and I can't find it in me to continue my lecture. I set the papers down and beckon her over. 


"Diogo" she whispers, walking toward me. 


I catch her arm and tug her down into my lap, cradling her against me. I press her head under my chin and wrap my arms securely around her small, quivering body. A sob escapes and, though I can't see her face, I suspect the tears have started again.


"It's my fault  " she begins, but I cut her off.


Chapter 69: Diogo